


We'll Tell You When They're Hungry Again

by skyline



Category: Big Time Rush
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Hunger Games Roleplay, James!Cinna, Kendall!Finnick, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-23
Updated: 2012-03-23
Packaged: 2017-11-09 01:44:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/449881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyline/pseuds/skyline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James is not the slut in this scenario.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We'll Tell You When They're Hungry Again

**Author's Note:**

> This was actually something I texted a bunch of people while drunk, and it was kind of the catalyst for all those other Hunger Games inspired stories I've written. Because apparently roleplay with a plastic trident just wasn't doing it for me.

"I look ridiculous."  
  
"You look like a sexy tribute from district four, which is the point."  
  
Dubiously, Kendall stares at himself in the mirror. "Yeah, no, I am so uncomfortable with this."  
  
"You said that about the time we played Snow White and the Seven Sluts, too."  
  
"That's because some of us aren't used to having orgies in our bedrooms."  
  
"Which is a flaw in your life that I plan to rectify with great frequency, now shush. You’re supposed to be charming the pants off of me."  
  
"Because that's so hard."  
  
"I am not the gigantic slut in this scenario," James objects primly, brushing imaginary dust off of his simple black slacks. He looks good, all monochrome except for the subtlest line of liquid gold accenting his eyelashes. Kendall wonders which of the female residents of the Palmwoods James nicked the eyeliner from or if it's straight from his personal stash. It suits him.  
  
Meanwhile, Kendall looks like he aspires to be a merman. He twirls the plastic trident in his hands, nervous. He's not so great at this role-play thing, preferring to simply be himself. But it does get kind of hot once they get going, and he loses himself in playing pretend, dismissing the hockey player from Minnesota in favor of the character James wants him to be. It just takes him longer to slip into character than, say, Logan, who can adopt a bad cop game face in seconds, or Carlos, who never really stops with the make believe.  
  
His nervousness must show. James reaches across the space between them, his long-fingered hands warm and familiar from the ridges of his knuckles to the burn scar from the first time they attempted to cook up a grilled cheese when they were five. "Hey, relax. I'll walk you through it. Just have fun. And smile."  
  
James chucks him under the chin, flashing his own pearly whites. Kendall takes a deep breath, holds it for a beat, and then exhales, nodding. He meets his own gaze in James's full length mirror, steely, determined. "I'm ready."  
  
"Great. Assume the position."  
  
Immediately, Kendall begins fumbling with the waistband of his spandex pants, trying to figure out how exactly to get the dratted things off. James makes a 'tsk' noise.  
  
"Not that position. Not yet." He smirks and instructs, “Slip into character."  
  
Kendall's hands still. "Okay. Uh. Who am I again?"  
  
"Finnick Odair: boywhore." James makes this strangled sound. "I can't believe you haven't read the books yet. It physically pains me, Kendall."  
  
"I've been meaning to! But they have a lot of words." He makes a face. "And I've been busy trying to manage...you."  
  
James pouts. "Carlos and Logan too!"  
  
"...But mostly you."  
  
"Kendall, they're easy books. They have blood and gore and explosions. _I've_ read them. And Carlos too!"  
  
Kendall sighs, very put up on by the burden of reading. "I'll get to them eventually. Besides, Katie won't lend them to me. She's still mad about the time I accidentally dropped twilight out a window."  
  
James snorts. "The window of a moving vehicle. On the pacific coast highway. Sure, _accidentally_."  
  
"Those books were really bad. Her brain was rotting!"  
  
"Alright, don't think I don’t see you stalling." James places his hands on his hips, dishing out his best sassy frown. Sternly, he continues. "We'll discuss your illiteracy once you take care of this."  
  
He points to the front of his pants, where the dark fabric is tenting, slightly. Kendall's mouth drops open. "How are you already hard? All we've been doing is talking about some stupid books."  
  
"A, have you seen yourself in spandex?" James demands. To be an ass he tweaks one of Kendall's bare nipples. "You're sexy."  
  
Be that as it may, half naked boywhores don’t exactly call up images of explosions and bloody death, at least not to Kendall. He feels like James is probably making this character up. He shivers all the same.  
  
James barrels on, "B, they are not stupid! They are full of wonderful...ness...they have the best words of all the words."  
  
"Logan is rubbing off on you." Kendall pauses, considering. "Are you sure you don’t like this series because Logan let you rub one off on him while he read them out loud?"  
  
"Don't judge me, you watch Carlos fellate corndogs and then bang him on the dining room table."  
  
Kendall quirks an eyebrow. "And you don’t?"  
  
James blanches. "At least I wasn’t jacking off while Logan read Narnia. Oh yeah, he told me about that. I know you have a thing for Aslan."  
  
"I don’t- that's not-" Kendall stammers. But, naturally, James takes everything in stride, like the little sexual deviant that he is.  
  
"No worries, I've got some furry costumes around. But those are for later." He smacks Kendall's ass. "Right, now may the odds be ever in your favor, bitch."  
  
So, Kendall really has no idea what the fuck he's doing, but he tries to stand up straight and hold his head high. Earlier, James gave him a quick rundown of who he's supposed to be, but other than _boywhore_ and _tribute_ , Kendall wasn't paying much attention. Mostly because James had looked hot, even when he was in the midst of costuming himself, but also because James had suggested Kendall rub his body with sushi to add to the realism.  
  
Talking James out of that had been a chore and a half.  
  
Still, Kendall has the vaguest recollection of a script, and he obediently walks over to the door. He does not venture put into the hall like James wants for fear of actually being seen by a real live _sane_ person. James frowns, prettily. Kendall ignores it, pretending he really is outside the room. He knocks light against inside of the wood.  
  
Let the games begin.  
  
"Hi, um." Kendall scrapes his teeth over his lower lip, painfully self-conscious, already sure that he's doing this wrong. The plastic of the trident is slick from his clammy palm. It always amazes him how James can gather everything that makes him James and tuck it deep down inside himself, turning it in visible. He _is_ his character, the quiet stylist with the rebellious streak, in the blink of an eye. Kendall says, "My stylist is- I mean, I'm-"  
  
This isn't working.  
  
He feels dumb.  
  
James catches him in his gaze, gone leonine and unfamiliar with the gold eyeliner. He doesn't twitch, doesn’t betray anything at all, so Kendall focuses on that burn on his hand, a part of James that can't be hidden away. He reminds himself how excited James was when he came to him with the idea.  
  
James wants this.  
  
Badly.  
  
Kendall takes a calming breath. His voice turns strong.  
  
"I wanted to meet you. The man who lit the girl on fire." What? Just because Kendall doesn't like to read doesn’t mean he can't use Wikipedia. Or watch movie trailers. "I'm Finnick."  
  
He extends his hand, trying and probably failing to look coy. He would make a terrible boywhore.  
  
"I know who you are. A Victor." James says, all grave, and shit, Kendall cannot do this. It’s going to hurt James's feelings if he laughs in his face. He absolutely _cannot_ ; Kendall will end up with blue balls for weeks.  
  
Okay. For the sake of his balls, Kendall tries to concentrate.  
  
He is a prostitute. He is a murderer. He is a rebel.  
  
Fire flickers in James's eyes, and Kendall doesn’t know if it's a character thing or if James suspects he's about to have a nervous meltdown. It doesn't matter. Kendall _is_ Finnick. He is brazen. He is dauntless. He is stuck between a rock and a hard place, which actually isn't a far stretch from the insanity of his real life, of trying to hold onto himself and his best friends in the middle of Hollywood. That's half the reason they play this game to begin with, finding comfort in each other as opposed to colder, more dangerous places.  
  
He walks in close, curling his hand around the back of James's neck and murmuring, "So my reputation precedes me."  
  
James pulls his head back, out of Kendall's reach. He sits back on the bed and says, “I'm not interested in that. _Victor_."  
  
Kendall suppresses a snort. Sure he's not. The shape of James’s dick is clear through his slacks. Kendall forces the humor out of his voice and remembers the script. He tries for anger, barely contained. "I'm not a Victor, anymore. I'm a tribute."  
  
He thinks he's supposed to say something about a _quell_ , but his Wikipedia search was not actually that extensive. Carlos really wanted to play video games this morning, and Kendall had honestly been hoping James would let him get laid the normal way.  
  
"And what an honor that is," James, no- _Cinna_ \- says, all sardonic.  
  
Kendall smiles his hockey smile, the intimidating, feral grimace of a thing he wears for the benefit of opposing reams. "I hear you like politics."  
  
"I find them abhorrent," James replies calmly, his lion's gaze sharpening.  
  
Abhorrent is a big word. Three whole syllables. Somebody has been making Logan read them big boy books.  
  
Kendall slides into James’s lap, easy, fitting the same way he has since they were fourteen and fooling around with shaky hands, hornier than they knew what to do with. “Shame. I heard you were the man to talk to if I wanted to make new friends.”  
  
James shifts beneath him, not breaking character, but definitely interested. He loops one of his arms around Kendall’s waist to keep him from falling off the bed. “You heard wrong.”  
  
“Are you going to tell on me?” Deftly, Kendall presses the edge of the trident into James’s throat. It’s just plastic, but James is someone else, has become a man with things to lose that Kendall doesn’t entirely understand because he went the way of Cliffnotes. Oops.  
  
He almost wishes he did know what was going on, what the weights and measures in this game are. He plays rebel spies from Star Wars, sometimes with Carlos, and once with Logan.  
  
Once because Logan is completely incapable of sneakiness. But anyway, that’s the character he adopts now, striking up discord, bravely facing death, and so on and so forth.  
  
Kind of like how he is around Griffin every time they interact.  
  
James leans into the trident, just a little, choking a sound out of himself from the press on his windpipe. Kendall snatches it back. James likes all kinds of kinky things, but he’s pretty sure he can only handle one fetish at a time. When Kendall meets his eyes, all James does is smile and hold his head a little higher. He is graceful, classy in a way that he rarely is outside of photo-shoots and fancy dinners. “Why would a nice boy like you want to get mixed up in Capitol business? Don’t you have people you want to protect?”  
  
Uh. Yeah. Kendall does. He’s got Katie and his mom and the boys, his brethren, his sometimes lovers, his constant supporters and biggest fans. But he’s got a feeling Finnick doesn’t. He remembers reading something about a girl, but to be honest it’s hard to concentrate on the idea of glossy lips and shiny curls when James is sitting there, gold flecks in his irises, expectation clearly written across his features.  
  
“I want to help.” Kendall isn’t sure what he means. He wants to help the cause, whatever it is, he wants to help James get off, and he is just really interested in being helpful. And naked. He shifts on James’s lap and moves his hand to brush James’s hair from his face. He tilts his wrist in so that James can smell his cologne, which is not Eau de sushi, but James picked it out, so it must be good enough. He tacks on, “Besides, I’m not very nice.”  
  
James breathes deep, tongue darting out to touch Kendall’s wrist, to lick at his pulse point. Kendall squirms, rutting his ass against James’s dick, trying to turn it into a tease, but mostly just wanting to move this show along. “How do I know I can trust you?”  
  
Oh. Well. That’s easy. Kendall presses his mouth to James’s, making sure his lips promise all kinds of wickedness. This is more familiar ground, and he bites kisses into James’s lips, moans as James cups his ass and pulls him against his dick so that they are connected, for a second, electric energy that would be so much better without clothes.  
  
James can’t drop the act. He tells Kendall, “It’s dangerous,” and at first Kendall wants to smirk and say that he can handle danger, and he does. Then James says, “No. It’s _dangerous_ ,” in this voice that brooks no argument at all. He stares at Kendall, really stares, deep and soul searching, and something in his eyes makes Kendall feel like his life really is a tragedy. Useless panic actually wells up in his chest, like he’s walking on the edge of a razor and he can never escape some big bad fate. James is doing what he does best; selling it.  
  
He says things about families with mouths to feed and children dying and Kendall is upset, now. He’s still turned on by the lines of James’s body beneath him, but he feels like the world outside this bedroom is filled with monsters that he is not wholly prepared to fight. He whispers, “I can handle it,” but his voice comes out broken, like he’s been chewing on shards of glass.  
  
“Can you?” Cinna asks, and he is not James at all.  
  
Kendall assumes a mask too, serious, mocking. He shoots back, “Aren’t I a victor? I can survive anything.”  
  
He licks out at James’s earlobe, sucking it into his mouth, licking up and tracing his tongue around the elegant curve of James’s ear.  
  
“We’ll see about that.” James inclines his head. “You’ve misplaced your handlers for the night?”  
  
He’s polite, almost indifferent. He’s putting all his Brooke Diamond instilled etiquette to use.  
  
To get into Kendall’s pants.  
  
James’s mom would be so proud.  
  
“They’ve all gone to sleep.” Kendall cocks an eyebrow. He leans in close, letting James admire the indents of his collarbone, the stretch of skin across his chest. James’s gaze settles somewhere around Kendall’s left nipple when Kendall purrs, “So handle me.”  
  
Purring is weird. But whatever, James likes it. He flips them, pinning Kendall back against the bed. James rubs his thumbs from the skin beneath Kendall’s navel all the way down to the line of his stupid spandex pants, dipping inside, brushing over flushed skin of Kendall’s cock. James snatches his hands away, tugging at the waistband of Kendall’s pants. “These don’t suit you at all. I have something else you can wear.”  
  
Kendall muffles a laugh, unable to help it. He shimmies out of the atrocious, binding pants while James hovers patiently over him. Once he’s naked, James touches Kendall’s lips, neglecting the rest of him, but it’s cool. Kendall gets it. James is really, really obsessed with his mouth.  
  
He always says Kendall has cocksucking lips. Blowjobs weren’t really in the game plan. Kendall fists his fingers in James’s collar, pulling him down so that he is covering Kendall’s body. He ruts into his thigh and says, “So are we rebels, yet?”  
  
James swats at him, but it’s Cinna who growls, “You’re not taking this seriously.”  
  
“No, I think I definitely am,” Kendall replies, voice low, his ninja-fingers working open James’s black shirt. He likes this whole black thing, likes the classic look and the regal edge it gives James’s features, but James is always really better when he’s not wearing anything at all. He rolls them again, straddling James’s thighs. Kendall opens the clasp on James’s slacks, careful in pulling down the zipper. Can’t be too eager, if he’s an experienced boywhore.  
  
But really, this is the part Kendall’s been looking forward to all night. He’s already equipped for it, ass still loose and wet with lube from before he slid into those ridiculous pants, and all he has to do is slick _Cinna_ up once, twice and he can- he canhe _can_ \- there. Kendall’s positioned James dick up against his asshole, and he teases, sliding it wetly between his cheeks just to watch James flush, whine, buck his hips. Kendall sinks down at the same time that James is pushing up, seated inside him in one long slide. Perfect. Kendall likes being on top, likes fucking himself onto James while James watches it, greedy. He likes the bruises that James presses into his thighs that he finds the next morning, that he touches a thousand times throughout the next day to remind Kendall that they’re still there. James is gripping him now, urging him to move with a quiet, restrained kind of patience that he only ever undertakes for _serious roles_.  
  
Kendall decides it must be killing him. He decides to stay in character, making a show of it, rising up off James until he’s just got the tip of him inside, pulsing, and then driving his hips back down in this slow undulation. James’s lips gape open, closed, just like a fish out of water. Kendall runs his fingers across James’s chest, tweaks his nipples and uses his nails to scrape light down his ribcage. James grabs at his hand. It takes a few tries before he actually catches it and brings Kendall’s knuckles to his lips, all charming. Like they’re courting or something.  
  
Kendall isn’t sure what to do with that, with random moments of tenderness that may or may not be part of the act. He doesn’t try to decipher it. He bobs up and down, getting his entire body into it. James is thick, hard, wet on each down stroke. He keeps looking at Kendall like he’s god.  
  
“You’re good at this,” James gasps, and he has to be close; there’s too much snark in his words, too many implications for him to stay Cinna.  
  
Unlike Kendall, who is totally professional when he wends his hips from left to right, testing, rolling, and says brightly, “Practice makes perfect.”  
  
James’s eyes flutter shut, lips moving. It looks like he is mumbling curses. He positions both his hands on Kendall’s hips, nails biting into bone, stilling him. Kendall wiggles around, trying to regain control, but when James opens his eyes it is to deliver a dark look. He thrusts up slow, fucking into Kendall like he’s got him pinned down, when really, the only thing around is air. He’s hitting Kendall just right, making his chest feel tight, his heart too big, his stomach too tight. James is watching him with those jungle cat eyes of his, pumping into Kendall again and again until he can’t quite keep a grip on who he is anymore. Kendall comes, totally untouched. He stripes white across James’s chest, leaning back on his heels so that he can feel how deep James is buried in him. James tries to force him to move, hitching his hips up and down while Kendall mostly just trembles, but that’s totally fine.  
  
“Fuck, Kendall,” James hisses, letting go, pumping his hips erratically as he shoots off inside him. Kendall rests his head against James’s, trying to press his body in closer, to make it better, somehow, because he always wants things to be better for James.  
  
He waits until it’s over before he flops off of him, allowing James to tangle his spider limbs around Kendall and rest his head against Kendall’s chest. They lay there for a few minutes, listening to each other’s breath calm.  
  
Then there is a yell that pierces the still air, loud, even over the sound of Kendall’s thunderous heartbeat in his ears. “What was that?”  
  
“I think Logan and Carlos are playing Peeta, Katniss, and Gale.”  
  
“But there are only two of them.”  
  
James sighs contentedly, ‘Yeah.”  
  
“I don’t want to know.” Kendall runs his fingers through James’s hair, pulling him closer. “Are we still playing The Hunger Games?”  
  
James perks up, intrigued. “What did you have in mind?”  
  
“Just. I’m from a district by the ocean, right? I can hold my breath for a really long time,” Kendall promises, which is really mostly true.  
  
“We’re going to have to test that out. Practice.” James slips right back into his Cinna persona, the perfect poker face. “Wouldn’t want you to drown in a puddle during the Quarter Quell. What kind of show would that be for Panem?”


End file.
